


Giles/Ethan Drabbles, 2004-present

by Mireille



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Community: open_on_sunday, Community: slash_100, Community: smut_69, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-05-09
Updated: 2007-09-06
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13482672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: Giles/Ethan drabbles, written over a period of several years.





	1. open_on_sunday: "punishment"

**Author's Note:**

> Rated Explicit because some of them will be, but many of them are T or below, as well. 
> 
> Any drabbles that would merit an archive warning (EXCEPT if they reference TV-series canonical character deaths) if posted on their own will get a note at the top; since most of them don't need a warning, I preferred to do it that way.

They'd got away with it.

It had helped that Randall's body had... dissolved... like that, no body to hide. While Deirdre sobbed and Thomas was sick, he and Ripper and Philip had cleared everything away, and it was all over and done. Not that he was glad it had happened, but, well, Randall had been sloppy, and that wasn't Ethan's fault - or his problem, either. 

"We'll get it right next time," he said, as Ripper lay down next to him.

"There won't be a next time," Ripper snapped, and when Ethan leaned in to kiss him, he shoved him away.


	2. open_on_sunday: "hands"

They weren't Ripper's hands, not any more. Ripper's fingers were stained from nicotine, not ink, and callused from guitar-strings and not holding a pen. 

There'd been moments tonight when Ethan almost convinced himself: holding a glass up in a mock-toast, those were Ripper's hands, and so were the ones moving hot and needy over his skin afterward.

But then he felt a twinge from having his arm twisted behind his back between the crypt and the pub, and those weren't Ripper's hands, at all.

It was small consolation to think that by dawn, they wouldn't be Rupert Giles' hands, either.


	3. open_on_sunday: "endings" (#1)

Eyghon or no Eyghon, he thought, it was good that he'd burned the mark away. One less reminder--and if it left a scar, that would serve as a reminder of a different kind: that this was over between Ripper and him, for good.

Sufficiently 'over' that if this hadn't been the Hellmouth with all its delicious opportunities for Chaos, he'd leave and never bother Ripper again. Not much, anyway.

And sufficiently 'over' that he wouldn't even bother to see if this 'Jenny' had any secrets Ethan could use to make her life very uncomfortable indeed. 

At least not tonight.


	4. open_on_sunday: "endings" (#2)

For an intelligent man, he could be an appallingly slow learner. That was the only explanation for going out and getting drunk with Ethan instead of just getting the information from him. 

There was no explanation for the fact that he hadn't gone home alone, other than that he made a horrendously stupid drunk. 

And for thinking things might be different this time, he could only brand himself dangerously insane. 

Well, no more, he swore as the soldiers took Ethan away. Even if Ethan came back, there were some things he couldn't forgive, no matter how drunk he got first.


	5. open_on_sunday: "beginnings"

Ethan had no idea what Thomas was thinking--he wasn't sure he wanted to even have a drink with this 'Ripper', let alone do any magic with him. He didn't look very impressive--jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket, a permanent scowl.

Then they shook hands, and the contact let Ethan feel the strength of the other man's magical ability--possibly stronger than his own. Maybe Thomas was right, at that.

Ripper let go, giving Ethan a slow grin, and whether or not he was what the group needed, Ethan decided, Ripper might be what _he_ was looking for--tonight, at least.


	6. I Have Not Been to Oxford Town (open_on_sunday: David Bowie titles, #1)

He'd kept some of his textbooks when he left; not just the occult ones, but some of his history texts. Even though he'd changed his clothing and his accent and everything he could change about himself, he'd kept some of the books, because he hadn't finished reading them.

Until the morning after the first night that Ethan spent in his flat, when Ethan saw them. "What do you have all _those_ for?"

"The last person left them here," he'd lied, and the next day he'd sold the lot to a secondhand bookshop, because his old life had no place here.


	7. Come and Buy My Toys (open_on_sunday: David Bowie titles, #2)

Ethan had come to Sunnydale because it was on a Hellmouth; it had actually had nothing to do with Ripper. He'd have come anyway, and he'd have set up shop anyway, because he'd never have been able to resist the lure of all that dark mystical energy, just waiting for him to tap into. He couldn't wait until Halloween, in fact, to see the first delightful fruits of his labors; he was rather proud of the enchantment on the costumes.

But calling the shop "Ethan's"? _That_ was because of Ripper. He was making himself easy to find, just in case.


	8. The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell (open_on_sunday: David Bowie Titles, #3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one also contains Giles/various people.

Afterward, he didn't remember much, just fragmented details: the taste of Philip's sweat, scratches down Randall's back, Deirdre's soft whimpers, Thomas's weight on him.

And through it all, Ethan's eyes, glittering darkly. They'd agreed that someone should observe, this first time, although he'd been surprised Ethan volunteered.

Until the demon was gone, and he sprawled on the floor, feeling sore and sweaty and still euphoric, and Ethan grinned at him. "They got the demon. I get Ripper," he'd said, so smugly that he'd had no choice but to pin him to the floor to show him just what he got.


	9. sometime between "The Dark Age" and "Band Candy."

For reasons he doesn't think about much, he doesn't leave Sunnydale, even after Eyghon's gone. There's always someone who needs a sorcerer, and if his current accommodations leave a little to be desired, he's lived in worse. 

He hasn't thought of anything to outshine the brilliance of the Halloween costumes, which is the reason he's been keeping a low profile. That, and the knowledge that he won't fare well when he _is_ discovered; he knows his Ripper far too well to expect that. 

Besides, if he keeps himself well-hidden, not being found doesn't mean that Ripper didn't bother to look.


	10. Beginnings, Middles, and Ends

Last night had probably been just what he'd come here looking for, or at least as close to it as he was likely to get. There'd been drink and drugs and magic--not much magic, he had to admit; they'd been too pissed at that point to do more than conjure up some colored lights. But at least they'd done that, and the girl--he couldn't recall her name--had laughed and put a record on, dancing drunkenly in a cloud of animated fairy lights. She was quite pretty, if he remembered right, and he'd been rather irritated when that Thomas bloke had led her off to a dark corner. 

And then--

Well, yes, "and then." And then he'd woken up this morning on a mattress on an unfamiliar floor, with an unfamiliar arm flung across his chest, and for a minute, the part of him that remembered that "Ripper" was mostly an act wondered what the hell he'd got himself into. 

Then the owner of the arm--and Ripper _did_ remember him--woke up, and pulled Ripper over to him, and he decided that whatever this was, it was bound to be more fun than Oxford, at any rate.

****

For a moment, he could almost hear the disappointment in his father's voice as he asked Rupert what he was doing still asleep in the middle of the afternoon.

But his father was nowhere around, and it had been rather a late night--Ripper looked over at the leather-bound spellbook set carefully on top of their battered dresser, grinning at the memory of how well the theft had gone--and the late-afternoon sun was slanting through the grimy windows, leaving the room pleasantly warm. And besides, Ethan was still sprawled across his chest, not even stirring when Ripper poked him in the side. 

He did wake up a bit later, though not until after Ripper pushed him off onto the mattress, and Ethan sulked and glared and demanded that Ripper make up for waking him like that. 

That meant that it was well past dark when they bothered to get out of bed at all. Not that it mattered. Magic and Ethan--he didn't really see the need for much else.

****

The thing about lasts was that you rarely knew they were happening. Firsts were easy, but lasts--those tended to come as a surprise.

Yesterday had been the last time he'd wake up next to Ethan. The last morning they'd ever spend tangled together on their lumpy mattress, reluctant to separate long enough to get up. 

Last night had been the last time they'd all work magic together--and his stomach twisted at the memory of just why. 

If he'd had any warning of how this would all have gone, he'd have changed it, and it wouldn't have been the last of anything. But he hadn't, and it was, and now he'd finished stuffing his clothes in his bag--well, not what he'd been wearing last night; he couldn't even bear to touch those--and went out to the front door. 

Ethan was on the couch, very determinedly pretending not to notice him; no one could give the silent treatment better than Ethan when his nose was out of joint. 

Ripper stopped at the door for a moment, though, watching him. 

It was going to be the last time he saw Ethan, after all, and he wanted to remember it.


	11. Voice

Ethan's voice had always been one of his weaknesses. The exultation in it as he cast a spell; the wicked whispers when they were out in public, filled with promises of what he wanted Ripper to do to him when they were alone; even the vicious edge when they fought--all of them had drawn him in. 

Even when he should have known better, he'd spent hours sitting in that bar in Sunnydale, long after Ethan had told him everything he knew about 314, just for the pleasure of hearing Ethan's voice--and he'd paid for it, which ought to have taught him a lesson. He'd believed that it had. 

And yet they'd found themselves here, how a meeting--purely by chance, Ethan swore--in Bath had turned into Ethan bruised and bleeding against a wall. But then, somehow, it had led to Ethan in his bed, all the smirking and mockery gone from Ethan's tone, leaving only a strained whisper, Ethan begging him for more, harder, faster, _now_ , until he felt as though he had no choice but to give Ethan what he wanted. 

Even then, even with Ethan's body--tense with need and slick with sweat--beneath him, he knew he'd regret this by morning, if not before, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. 

He'd always had a weakness for Ethan's voice.


	12. Time Past

This evening would be depressing even if his entire life hadn't already been more than a bit depressing in and of itself, even if Ethan hadn't come here bringing news that there was something coming that even frightened demons. 

He should have just hit Ethan a few more times and been done with it; that, at least, didn't turn into uncomfortable nostalgia. 

It was a great deal easier to just despise Ethan, rather than looking across the table and remembering there was a time when he'd loved Ethan--desperately and deeply and, God help him, sincerely. Rather than being forced to recognize that every trace of that feeling was gone--and rather than feeling guilty when he saw how much Ethan obviously wished it otherwise.


	13. The Hardest Word

When Ethan asks--more than once; Giles loses count at about the same time he loses track of how much he's drunk--what happened between them, Giles doesn't even listen to the answer he gives. Whatever he says won't be the truth; he gave up trying to explain himself to Ethan a long time ago. 

_You want too much,_ he doesn't say. _You'd never have shared me with the Council, and Lord knows you'd have been jealous of Buffy. And because you'd be miserable, so would I._

If he did say it, Ethan wouldn't listen; he'd assume it was meant as a catalogue of his faults, an explanation of why he wasn't good enough. 

Giles knows he could never explain that he's apologizing, not accusing.


	14. Circle

They'd started out hating one another: Ethan resenting his self-important assumption that he should be in charge of things, him infuriated by Ethan's insistence on being as utterly frustrating as possible at all times. 

That had changed in time, to--well, looking back on it, Giles was reluctant to try and identify precisely what it had been. But it _had_ changed, and there'd been a time when, even with the painful clarity of hindsight, he couldn't deny that they'd been happy. 

Now they loathed one another again, and he had to admit that over the past twenty years, he'd been half-expecting that things would circle round again, eventually, and he'd always suspected Ethan must have been thinking something similar. 

Giles watched as the car Riley had called for drove away with Ethan handcuffed and trapped in the back seat. 

Somehow, he thought they'd left it a bit late this time.


	15. Hours and Hours

When they finally came out of Ethan's room, it didn't take much to work out what the others had been thinking. Dierdre looked them over speculatively, with an expression that had Ripper making a mental note to suggest to Ethan that they convince her to stay after the others went home, while the others gave them a variety of winks and smirks that made it clear they all _knew_ just what they'd been up to, locked in there for hours when everyone else was out here trying to have a good time. 

Ripper wondered what they'd think if the others had given into curiosity and come to find out what _had_ been going on, and seen them lying there on the floor amid piles of references and spell books, heads together and grinning wildly at one another while they worked out just what spell they ought to try casting next.


	16. Not That He's Keeping Track

The first week he was home, Ripper--no, Rupert again, he reminded himself--knew that Ethan was sulking. Not even someone as mercurial as Ethan Rayne would change his mind about an ultimatum like that one straight away. Besides, Ethan could have sulked for England, and he wouldn't pass up a chance to get in a bit more practice. 

The second week, he worried about what would happen when--not if--Ethan did come after him. Things were tense enough between him and his father; adding Ethan would just be lighting the blue touch paper and waiting for the fireworks. Rupert could come up with at least half a dozen reasons why his father would hate Ethan even before the topic of black magic needed to be discussed, and about twice as many for why Ethan would take great delight in provoking him. 

It didn't matter, though, because Ethan _didn't_ turn up, and by the sixth week, Rupert had decided that he didn't want him to. Things were settling down; his father even thought the Council would let him come back if he seemed properly penitent. The last thing he needed was Ethan sodding Rayne coming around and getting everything confused again. 

In the seventh week, he wrote and tore up five letters, all of which said, more or less, _Stop sulking, admit I'm right about this, and come up here._

By the eighth week, he decided Ethan had forgotten him, and set about pretending he had done the same.


	17. Sin of Omission

"And you've told me everything, Rupert?" When he nodded, his father added, "If the Council are to allow you to resume your training, they'll have to know the truth about what you've been doing."

"I understand that," he said. 

"There's nothing else you want to add?"

He shook his head, making himself look his father in the eye and trying to sound as though he were being completely honest. 

There was no way his father could possibly know about what had happened to Randall, and Rupert wasn't about to tell him. They might be willing to forgive his using black magic, but if the Council found out about that, they'd never let him become a Watcher; not only that, but they'd keep tabs on him for the rest of his life--and that was the _best_ outcome he could imagine. 

The other thing he hadn't mentioned, he was certain his father knew about. He _knew_ his father had been paying attention to what he was doing in London, and it wasn't as though he'd made any effort to keep it a secret. 

But he knew his father would never _dream_ of acknowledging Ethan's existence unless he was given no choice in the matter--heaven forbid he should actually have to admit that his only son had had a male lover for the past two years--and the last thing he wanted to do was to defend Ethan Rayne to his parents. 

And no matter how furious he was at Ethan for refusing to see that they'd been wrong--foolish and arrogant and utterly _wrong_ \--to summon Eyghon, he knew he'd find himself doing just that.


	18. Christmas, 1977

He'd claimed to be ill, and he thought his parents were grateful; they might have welcomed him back home, but that didn't mean his father was ready to explain to his fellow Watchers just what his wayward son had been doing. 

They'd be happier if he stayed out of the way until they'd sorted out how they were going to explain things, and someone ought to be having a happy Christmas. 

And so he'd stay up here and try to keep his mind focused on the terrible things that he'd done and allowed to happen, and not on last Christmas, when the flat had been cold and undecorated and miles away from his family, and he'd believed, at the time, that he was completely happy.


	19. Perhaps

Perhaps Riley had been telling the truth, and the military had at least tried to rehabilitate Ethan. Perhaps they'd even succeeded, and Giles would find Ethan a reformed character. Perhaps when he told Ethan about Glory, Ethan would be eager to help--not that Giles believed Ethan would know anything of use, but any slim chance was better than what they had now. Perhaps Ethan would view this as his chance to redeem himself for the past. 

And perhaps, Giles thought as he crossed the Nevada state line, the person trying to make up for what he'd done was himself.


	20. Ambivalent

Giles was fairly certain he'd broken at least one of Ethan's ribs that Halloween, and it hadn't been enough to get him to leave Sunnydale. 

He'd threatened, he'd punched; he wasn't altogether certain he wouldn't have shot Ethan, though that was partly the influence of that enchanted candy. 

No matter what he did or said, Ethan kept turning up; nothing was enough to convince Ethan he meant it when he said he wanted Ethan out of Sunnydale, and his life, forever. 

He was rather afraid that Ethan would never believe him until he managed to convince _himself_ of that, first.


	21. Better Hated Than Ignored

With all the world at his disposal, Ethan had come to Sunnydale. 

_Not_ a pleasant spot, honestly; Ethan had never enjoyed the company of vampires, even when they paid well, and while the Hellmouth might have been a strong source of mystical energy, Ethan didn't _need_ to draw on it for more power. He was quite powerful enough on his own. 

What Sunnydale did have, however, was Ripper, and even though their previous encounters had gone-- _badly_ was putting it mildly--that was the draw that kept him returning to California even when he could have gone anywhere else. 

He'd rather Ripper be angry than indifferent--and he rather thought indifference would be impossible once Ripper discovered what Ethan had planned for him _this_ time.


	22. If Wishes Were Horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during S6, when Giles is in England.

If he'd been paying closer attention to where he was going, and not thinking about everything he'd left behind in Sunnydale, he wouldn't have run into the man.

If he'd been paying a bit _less_ attention, he wouldn't have noticed the way the man--whose back was to him and whose collar was turned up against the wind--flinched when Giles murmured an apology. 

If his reflexes had been a bit quicker, he'd have got a good look at the man before he darted away and disappeared from view, and would know whether he'd been imagining things. 

"If wishes were horses...." Giles chided himself, but all the same, he couldn't walk down that street from then on without looking for Ethan's face among the passersby.


	23. Strangers When We Meet

Of all the ways he'd envisioned his reunion with Ethan might go--and he couldn't deny that over the past twenty years, he'd envisioned it with depressing regularity--this hadn't been among them. 

This hadn't been a chance meeting on the street, or an alcohol-soaked night in a smoky pub, or even Ethan turning up on his doorstep, grinning smugly and silently daring Rupert to send him away. 

This hadn't been Ripper and Ethan, paths finally crossing again. This had been a Watcher stepping in when his Slayer needed his help. 

It had been his duty, and Ethan had been just another enemy to fight. Just another evil, drawn to the Hellmouth. He'd been stopped, and he'd be leaving Sunnydale, and that was that; the only difference between Ethan and the rest of the fiends that they faced was how angry Ethan could still make him, how hollow the confrontation had left him feeling. 

He was angry, at least partly, because the years had twisted Ethan into someone he didn't know, someone who could do something that monstrous for no reason whatsoever. He had no delusions about Ethan's nobility, but he'd been over it and over it in his mind, and he couldn't find one thing that Ethan might have gained from that spell. The Ethan he remembered wouldn't have gone to that much effort for nothing. 

And that thought was always followed by the bitter realization that the Ethan he remembered had probably never existed in the first place.


	24. Uninvited

"You shouldn't be here," Giles muttered under his breath, not even glancing over. 

"It's a public place, mate," Ethan said--and Giles supposed he ought to be grateful that Ethan was keeping his voice down. 

"It's a _wedding_ ," he shot back, "and when Dierdre called to invite me, she told me she _wasn't_ asking you." He'd almost hoped she would, to be honest; it would have made it easy for him to decide whether or not to accept. 

"I'm hurt," Ethan said. It probably wasn't true--knowing Ethan, it almost certainly wasn't--but Giles felt a touch of guilt, all the same. They'd all gone their separate ways, but the rest of them had at least been invited; Philip and his girlfriend were a few rows up, and he'd seen Thomas as he came in.

It wasn't his fault that Dierdre hadn't invited Ethan, either, even if she'd been quick to assure him that Ethan wouldn't be there. It wasn't as though Ethan was known for his good behavior at solemn events--but he couldn't help feeling at least a bit responsible. 

At least, until Ethan said, "Who says _she_ invited me? I'm a friend of the groom's." 

That didn't seem likely. He'd never met Dierdre's fiancé, but the little she'd told him when she'd called had made him sound deadly dull--by Ethan's standards, that was. Sane people would have called it "stable." "Oh, really? What's his name, then?"

"I never got round to asking his _name_ ," Ethan said breezily, but then he grinned. "All right, so I saw the notice in the paper."

"Why are you here?" He'd decided to come because he _did_ wish Dierdre well, and he was glad she'd found her way out of everything they'd been involved in three years ago. He assumed the others were here for similar reasons, but with Ethan, that just didn't fit.

Ethan shrugged. "I was bored," he said, which was more or less the answer Giles had expected. 

It just hadn't been the answer he'd--not really _wanted_ , of course, but it might have been nice to hear.


	25. Five reasons why Ethan wishes he'd never met Ripper. (pre-series)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a meme response that I liked and wanted to keep.

1\. The name. Does he honestly expect Ethan--or anyone else--to take him seriously when he's walking around telling people to call him "Ripper"? All right, so perhaps "Rupert" isn't the most macho name Ethan's ever heard; neither is "Randall," and he seems to be surviving just fine. "Ripper" just makes it sound like he's compensating for something, if you get his meaning. 

2\. He's not compensating. For anything. Bastard. 

3\. The way he just automatically assumes that he's in charge of... everything. The fact that he actually does know what he's talking about (unlike, say, Thomas) and he can actually get everyone to do what they're meant to do in order to make something work (unlike, say, Ethan himself, who gets bored and tells everyone to just sod off), is beside the point. 

4\. The guitar. Well, not the guitar, which is harmless and which is always handy to have around, since they might need something they can pawn, one of these days. But the fact that sometimes he thinks Ripper's sure he can have anyone he wants, just by bringing out that guitar and singing to them. 

4a. He's usually right. 

4b. Ethan isn't necessarily immune to it. 

 

5\. Because there are three things about Ripper that not even he knows, but Ethan does: (1) he doesn't really belong here. (2) When he figures that out, he's going to go back home. (3) Ethan won't try to stop him, because Ethan would rather give up than have Ripper figure out just how much Ethan wants him to stay.


	26. Five memories that, for better or worse, Ethan can't erase. (any time post-"A New Man")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A meme response that I liked and wanted to keep.

1\. The first time a spell he was casting worked. That's one of the good memories. No, scratch that. That's the best memory. 

2\. Dierdre, with her fist jammed in her mouth to keep from screaming when she saw what happened to Randall. She was chalk-white, her mascara leaving black tear-tracks down her cheeks, and when she took her hand away, finally, her knuckles were bloody. He doesn't remember much about that night, really, but he can't seem to forget that. 

3\. There's a bar in Los Angeles he used to quite like; demon-friendly, which also tends to mean "somewhat dodgy sorcerer for hire" friendly, and there's a peace spell on the place that means he didn't have to worry about dissatisfied clients. (Of which he has more than a few. He does his job, and does it well; it's not his fault they don't think through what they're asking of him.) They don't water the drinks--at least not much--so he could even stand the karaoke. But the last time he was there, there was a blue-skinned demon singing "Suffragette City"; Ethan hadn't even realized he was singing under his breath (he doesn't even really like the song, but still, all (well, most) Bowie is good Bowie). Hadn't realized it, that was, until the owner of the place--green, horns, cherry-red suit--sat down to have a talk with him about "the path you're going down."

Damn. He liked that bar. He lost his taste for Bowie after that, too. 

4\. He remembers a lot of things about Ripper; it isn't as though he developed amnesia and forgot two years of his life. But the one he'd like to forget and can't seem to is Ripper looking at him like Ethan suddenly disgusted him, the morning after Randall died. 

He's fairly certain remembering that is more pathetic than he's willing to admit to being, but there doesn't seem to be much he can do about it. 

5\. The sun was coming up just as they got to the "secure facility," and as they led him inside, Ethan was facing east. He's glad he remembers that; he's quite certain he won't see it again.


	27. M-rated, pre-series

Ethan can't, or won't, keep quiet, no matter how many times Ripper's muttered a warning that if someone finds them, things could get ugly. 

Not that he's ever minded a good fight. He just had other things in mind for tonight, and Ethan is the one who hadn't let them get any farther than the alley behind the pub, next to the dustbins.

And so when Ethan moans again, grinding against his hip, Ripper covers Ethan's mouth with his own, just to keep him quiet. 

It's not a kiss, not really, but Ethan smirks like he's just won a battle.


	28. "restraints" (pre-series)

Ethan can get out of handcuffs in less than five minutes--considerably less, if he's sober and no one's watching. He's got enough tricks, magical and otherwise, up his sleeve that short of completely incapacitating him, Ripper can't keep Ethan anywhere he doesn't want to be. 

He's not even struggling, though, just looking up at Ripper, and when Ripper's hand slides up Ethan's thigh, skimming over his hip and coming close, but never close enough, to Ethan's cock, Ethan even says, "please," which isn't a word Ripper thought Ethan knew. 

The cuffs had been a whim, but Ripper's keeping them.


	29. "leather" (pre-series)

It's the jacket.

Well, that and the guitar. And the sneer. And the fucking unbelievable raw magical talent. Mostly the latter. 

But Ethan likes it enough to complain about potential carpet-burn until Ripper shoves it at him to use as a pillow. 

Ethan buries his face in it, breathing slow and deep to get through the pain of those first few strokes of Ripper's cock inside him. 

It's the smell of the leather he likes. 

But it's not until he breathes in deeper, deep enough to get the scent of Ripper's skin mixed in with the leather-smell, that he comes.


	30. "candle was"; pre-series

Neither of them had thought to put out the candles after the spell was over. They hadn't thought about anything except the rush of magic in their veins, and pulling one another to the bed to celebrate their success.

And when Ripper does move a candle after nearly knocking it over, a few drops of wax fall on Ethan's thigh. Ethan's body jerks, but instead of the cursing Ripper expects, Ethan groans. 

"Like that?" Ripper murmurs, looking down at Ethan.

White wax cools and hardens on faintly-reddened skin, and Ethan hisses, "Fuck. Yes." 

Good thing they have plenty of candles.


	31. "ice"; post-Chosen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a darker one.

They'd tried everything at least once, or at least everything they'd heard of or could think up, so when Ethan's mouth is cool around his cock, the first thing Giles thinks of is an August day in a cramped and airless flat, and holding an ice cube up to Ethan's lips before Ethan sucked him off. 

That was over thirty years ago. 

It's January, he's in a hotel, and the ice machine on this floor is broken; and when he lifts his head to ask Ethan where he found the ice, he sees a glint of gold in Ethan's eyes.


	32. The Last Time

The last time they saw one another, they knew it would--or at least could--be the last. Ethan didn't believe that the goal of anything described as a "secure facility" was actually  _rehabilitation_ , and he was sure Rupert couldn't be that naïve, either.   
  


***

  
  
The last time they fucked, they knew it would be the last. At least, Ripper knew it, judging from the way he got out of bed and into his clothes, like he couldn't get away from Ethan fast enough. And that, along with the way Ripper hadn't looked him in the eye since they'd got rid of Randall's body, made certain Ethan couldn't think of a reason to try to stop him.   
  


***

  
  
The last time they kissed, though, Ethan doesn't think there was any way they  _could_  have known.   
  
Ripper was on his way out somewhere, and Ethan was sprawled on the sofa, listening to music with his eyes shut. He can't even recall what record was playing; there was no reason to commit it to memory. It was just an ordinary afternoon, rainy and slightly dull.   
  
For once, there was no one else about, which meant Ripper didn't mind being slightly soppy; he leaned down to kiss Ethan goodbye before he left.   
  
Sometimes, late at night, when he's been drinking, Ethan thinks he should remember more about that, but really, it had just been an ordinary day, and he'd had no way of knowing that it would never be ordinary again.

**Author's Note:**

> [me on tumblr](https://mireille719.tumblr.com)


End file.
